I've been meaning to write something (because I love to write) but there is something missing: me! I did say, though, in my introductory story that I hadn't mastered the fine art of technical accomplishment which would have resulted in a picture of me and other various images that I'd want to accompany my stories. That will come, probably in fits and spurts. But for now patience is the word of the day for me. There's a joke among my contemporaries that goes something like this: If you need to know how to do something on the computer, ask a six year old.
It's funny. In the rural area I grew up in, the age of the dial phone was just beginning. In the one room school house where I attended, the business of using the dial phone was taught. It replaced speaking to an operator with a number request. We were on a four party line. My parents ran a business and it got kind of tricky at times. I felt bad for the other parties sharing the line. To get back to what I was saying, the students learned how to use the dial phone and then took that knowledge home and taught their parents. When the old phones were replaced with the dial ones, families were reasonably prepared to use them.
I think back to a time maybe a decade ago when I had purchased a magazine on flying from an antique store. The magazine dated back to the forties. I brought it up to my parents' home and presented it to my father who became engrossed in its contents. Soon after, my mother sat down in a straight back chair next to his rocker and they started talking airplanes. It was amazing to sit in on. They were in a world of their own using language that they both understood, and that I did not. They were like a couple of kids today talking about the latest video game.
I also recall a time when computers were coming into their own and my two oldest sons then high school age engaged in a discussion about computers that excluded everyone in the family but them. Technical terms, strange sounding words, operations that sounded complex; all shared by knowing looks between them. I was awestruck. What was a baud anyway?
So, it all depends upon what era one is raised in and how much they've kept up with new things to learn. By the same token, the jargon of my era would be lost on subsequent generations unless there was a specific reason to research the past. For example, cars with carburetors. My first car was a '57 Chevy. I wanted to know everything about it and since I was still living at home, my father educated me on what was under the hood. Back then I even changed the oil on it. Not fun. I remember the time I discovered there was a gas leak under the car; not much of a leak at that point, but I could smell it. One would not want to drive a car in that condition. My father helped me with that. He told me that the gas tank had rusted under one of the straps that held the tank up. So, he told me to drive around to get rid of the excess gas; thankfully there wasn't that much. Then, if I recall, he siphoned out what little remained. He then removed the strap which was still in usable condition and worked on patching the tank. He took epoxy glue which he used in his shop and patched the small hole(s) in the tank, then covered the epoxy with a small square of wax paper. When it dried, the strap went back on and it was good as new. He usually had a gas can around and he put enough gas in my car to get me to town for a fill. That leak was never a problem again.
Okay, so you're saying what's the point of all this? Well, I guess what I wrote in the first paragraph. The rest is pretty much rambling and talking about how the different generations solve their respective problems. Older generations may have to catch up and that can take a little longer, but it can be done - can't it?
